Harry did as he was told, and Mahari leaned over him, pushing his unruly hair away from his forehead. He knew it. Sooner or later, everyone was looking at the scar. "Football injury." He lied, wondering why she wasn't saying anything.
"That's soccer right?" She said absently, leaning further over Harry's face to get a closer look at his forehead.
"Um… right…" Harry trailed off, upon realizing he could see considerable cleavage, Mahari's moonstone necklace dangling right on the tip of his nose. She traced it lightly, and Harry gave a light hiss.
"Did I hurt you?" She asked, looking down at his face. He shook his head. Harry didn't know what to think about the feeling that coursed through his body when she touched his scar… even lightly. It was definitely the opposite of Voldermort. It was pleasurable… "It's sensitive?"
"You could say that." He managed to croak, the fact that a beautiful girl was perched above him with her hands in his hair was strangely removed from his mind, and he patiently waited until Mahari's curiosity was satiated.
"You have nice hair Harry." She paused and smiled, looking at the hair in her hands. "That's homophonic."
"If you say so." He looked at her shirt, a white starched blouse with a triangle collar, quite modest if you weren't leaning over someone's head. Then you could see almost right down the shirt.
"And a very cool scar." She released him and sat up. "Would you like to see mine? I got one when I had my appendix removed." This was a first… he was never asked to see anyone else's scar.
"Sure." Harry's eyes widened as Mahari lifted her shirt to her ribcage, revealing a perfectly smooth abdomen, with a 2-inch scar on the side.
"Normally they're not so big, but the doctor sneezed, and his knife slipped." Harry looked up at her face in horror and she shrugged. "Hey, I was under some heavy drugs, so I didn't care. I mean, it's just a scar, not who I am." For the second time he felt as if Mahari's words had a double meaning.
"Can I touch it?" He asked, leaning over towards her.
"Sure." Harry's finger came in contact with her skin and she jumped slightly. "Your hands are cold." She shivered, leaning back against her pillows as Harry leaned over to get a closer look. The scar was ragged, and it was raised and shiny, three shades lighter than the surrounding skin.
"Does it ever hurt?"
"Only when it rains for some reason. That's why I can't sleep." Harry sat up and smiled.
"Wicked." He looked outside her window, and noticed the clouds were rolling back in again. It was dark… "What time is it!" Harry jumped up, looking around wildly for a clock. One was mounted on the wall above the bedroom door. It read eight o'clock. "Oh bugger…"
"What? What's wrong?" Mahari stood up, worried. Harry ran his fingers through his hair and grimaced.
"I'm supposed to be at supper."
"Well, you just lost track of time, that's all. You live right next door. It shouldn't be a big deal, should it?" She asked.
"I have to go." He bolted from the room, and down the stairs.
"Bye Harry!" Mahari ran out to the hall, leaning over the railing, just in time to see him run out the door.
Uncle Vernon met him at the door. "Where have you been!" He asked, face purple. Harry took a step back onto the stoop, surprised and startled. Vernon grabbed his tee shirt and pulled him in, loathe having a row on his front porch with the whole neighborhood privy.
"I was next door. I lost track of time!" Harry said, trying to defend himself. Vernon shook him violently, and Harry bit his lip to keep from socking him.
"Don't lie to me. Your kind doesn't socialize in polite society. And who on Privet Drive would want you in their home?" He hissed. Before Harry could answer the doorbell rang.
Vernon pushed Harry further into the hall, hiding him with his enormous girth and opened the door. "Yes, can I help you?"
Mahari smiled and held out her hand. "Hello, you must be Harry's uncle. He's told me so many wonderful things about your family."
"Are you one of his freaky friends? If so, you're not wanted here!" Vernon bellowed, about to close the door in her face. Mahari stuck her booted foot in the doorjamb, and shook her head.
"A friend, yes. Freaky? No. I've just come to give Harry this. He left this at my house." She handed over her Discman. "I'll be going now." Removing her foot, she stepped off of the small porch, into the just starting rain. Vernon closed the door and turned back to Harry, who was for once, glad to be hiding behind his uncle.
"I told you the truth." He said sullenly, looking at the carpet. Vernon's face turned another shade of purple and snarled.
"Well, she must be a freak, just like you. I told you once your kind started moving in, then the Prime Minister himself will be trying to get rid of the lot of ya." He spat. Harry noticed he was still holding Mahari's device.
"Can I have that? She meant that for me." Vernon looked down, and shook his head.
"Are you serious boy? You're to go straight to your room. I think you've caused enough trouble for today." Harry looked up, eyes livid.
"Alright then. I guess I'll go write my letter. Then quite a few of my "lot" will be coming to see how you're treating me."
"Vernon!" Petunia scrabbled out of the dining room when she heard the last words. "Don't let them come here. Just give him his toy. It won't hurt anything, and we'll just keep him in his room for the next two days. How's that sound?" She simpered, smoothing his collar around the bull neck that it hardly fit.
Vernon threw the discman at Harry, who caught it just after it hit his chest. Quiddich had definitely paid off. He stood there, waiting. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get to your room, and I don't want to see you for the next two days. That's no meals, and no friends."
"Fine." Harry launched himself up the stairs, squeezing past Dudley's bulk to get to his room. He closed the door, and a second later he heard the lock slide on the other side. He was trapped yet again. Grateful that he ate a large amount of food at Mahari's house, he put the discman down on his trunk and kicked off his shoes, changing for bed.
The lightning outside was seriously trying to compete with itself, rain coming down in buckets, not being able to see the lawn outside. His room was stuffy, and it didn't help that Hedwig was stuck inside all day, the droppings coming from her cage were almost unbearable.
He opened her cage and she fluttered appreciatively, taking flight and landing on his dresser. Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the mess on the bottom of her cage. "Sourify." It's surprising what you'll remember after trauma… The cage was clean and the smell was infinitely better, but he opened his window to circulate air, just in time to get hit by a small rock. "OW!" He said, looking at the small pebble that landed on his windowsill.
"Harry!" He leaned out of the window to see who would be calling his name from the lawn. It was Mahari.
"Hey…"
"I just wanted to make sure you got my discman. If you didn't, then I was going to come back and get it." Harry's head was getting wet, and the rain was running off of the roof and straight into his collar.
"Yeah, I got it." In more ways than one. It was interesting, trying to yell and whisper at the same time.
"Good. I'm going inside, because I don't know if you realize this, but it's raining." Harry grinned in spite of himself.
"Would you fancy that?" He chuckled as she threw up a wave and ran into her house. Harry pulled his head in and pulled off his shirt, the rain soaking his hair and neck. Using the shirt to towel off his head, he threw it in the corner and looking around his room, he sighed. He really should clean, unpack some, and try to make the next couple of days bearable.
Opting instead for the bed, he stripped down to his boxers and fell onto his already unmade bed, eyes closing tiredly. What a day… Pulling off his glasses, he threw a book at the light, and it was dark in Harry's room.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry!" Harry yelled, bolting up in his bed, disoriented. The last of the dream he couldn't remember fizzled from his brain, and the rush of energy brought on by his fear, receded like the adrenaline. He fell back on his pillow until he realized that the pecking noise he heard in his dream was real.
Harry hastily pushed on his glasses and looked at the window. Mahari was smiling and waving… hang on! He was on the second floor! Forgetting his state of undress, he rushed over to the window and heaved it open as far as it would go. "Mahari? What in bloody hell are you doing?" He asked, pulling her in. Mahari smiled and shrugged.
"I knocked and knocked. No one answered. Your aunt and uncle are out apparently. So why didn't you answer the door?" Harry shook his head.
"I guess I didn't hear you knock."
"Yeah, you were knocked out good." She looked down at his boxers and quickly looked back up, staring at a spot somewhere over his right shoulder. "Well, I'm going to go out into the hallway until you're dressed…" Walking over to his bedroom door, she tugged on it, finding it locked.
"Um…"
"It's locked." Harry said lamely, looking around desperately for the robe he threw across the room just yesterday.
"Really? Thanks Harry…" She frowned as she looked at the doorknob. "How are you supposed to open this thing?"
Harry could have smacked himself. How was he going to explain this one? "Um…" He said, abandoning his search for his robe. Walking over to her, he took her hand off of the door and steered her towards the window. "No time for that now, let's get you out of here before anyone wonders why you're in my bedroom with me in my undies." Mahari shook her head and spun out of Harry's grasp.
"Wait a second hon… did they lock you in here?" She asked, eyes blazing.
"No." He lied, not quite looking at her. She nodded and crossed her arms.
"Then unlock the door." Mahari glared at the side of Harry's face as he looked everywhere except at her.
"It's not that simple." She nodded again and looked out the window.
"Sure it is. But you won't let it. Goodbye Harry." Mahari climbed out of the window as quickly as she came in. Harry frowned at the sudden turn of events.
"Mahari? Mahari!" He poked his head out of his window, but she had already reached the ground, walking out of the Dursley's front yard and into her own. She didn't look back as he repeatedly called her name, and the slam she gave her front door sounded as if it was just for him. What in bloody hell was she so upset for?
